


A Guide For Young Ladies Entering the Service of The Fairies

by wewillalwaysenduphere



Series: The Hamilton Challenge: The Other 51 [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Blood, F/F, Immortality, Violence, dark themes, supernatural themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewillalwaysenduphere/pseuds/wewillalwaysenduphere
Summary: A girl descends into the Fae-realm to save her family.Just a story of many, but if you do not want to get lost in those halls beneath the ground, heed my warnings. Follow my guide. The Fair Folk is not to be trifled with.





	A Guide For Young Ladies Entering the Service of The Fairies

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiered by Rosamund Hodge's "A GUIDE FOR YOUNG LADIES ENTERING THE SERVICE OF THE FAIRIES"  
> Her version is awesome, but mine is gay.  
> So there's that.

I.

This is the truth they will use to break you: _Your love is nothing special._

 

II.

Don’t tell them that you need their help.

Don’t tell them that no one has ever loved like you do.

Don’t tell them about your family and how everything you do you do for them.

They’ve heard it all before. They’ve heard it from mouths covered in tears, from toothless mouths of old women, from mothers and daughters and sisters and lovers.

They can smell it on you, the desperation, the helplessness, the mortality.

You reek of it already, make sure not to repulse them too much.

They might turn you away if you do.

 

III.

If you’re a beautiful offering, you might get to choose your court. Most of the time, you will be chosen.

If you’re not beautiful, be happy about it. Cleverness is a much better weapon, it can be hidden easily while beauty gives itself away on first glance.

I’m not telling you you’ll be able to outwit a fairy, but it can be done. Stay in the dark, be smart.

Don’t make friends with other mortals in those halls beneath the ground.

Don’t be fooled into believing you’re not just fighting for yourself.

Every woman down here would sell you out to your mistress if they could gain advantage from it. Even Elena, who’s always quiet and smiles so nicely. Even Naomi, who makes sure to never scare you with her fangs.

 

IV.

At night you lie awake and remember your mother, with bruises around her slender wrists from men who treat her like an object, you remember your sister’s hollowed out cheeks because she never had enough to eat, and when she had it, wouldn’t eat.

You hear the fairies singing every night and you try to be strong, but you’re mortal, and you fall under their spell.

Don’t hate yourself for it, it’s why they accepted you in the first place.

They live off your weakness, to them it tastes like ambrosia. Your tears they drink like a fine wine, while you’re quietly standing by, holding a tray in your outstretched arms hoping your muscles won’t give in.

One night, you get up and you go to find them, you hear the singing and the closer you come the more beautiful it gets.

Oh, sweet child, have I not taught you to take care? They see you and invite you, and you spend the night with them believing you’re one of them, while they bask in your mortality, marvel at the decay that will one day take your body.

They touch you in ways that make you forget your own name.

When you wake up the next morning, you don’t remember.

 

V.

You will slowly realize there is a war between the two courts, Seelie und Unseelie, day and night, light and darkness.

The day will come when they won’t be satisfied with your services as a maid anymore. They will hand you a sword but no shield and ask you to spill blood in their name.

But it’s not really asking, because asking implies that you can say no, while the only answer to this question can be a _yes_ if you still want what you came for, if you want to stay alive.

So you’ll take that sword and swear their oath and let yourself be wrapped into an armour of thorns, blacker than the night itself.

You will forget what the sun felt like and you will forget your mortal life, but you came here willing to pay their price, and this is their price.

It is your life, but not quite the way you expected.

 

VI.

The chess-mistress will place you on a board and tell you when to move. You will see other mortals, those I’ve told you not to befriend, but I know you still did it. Some of them will fight with you, others against you.

Some you’ll have to kill yourself to please your chess-mistress.

The more blood you spill for her the more pleased she’ll be, and if you’re good, very good, she might actually start seeing you as more than just a game piece.

 

VII.

When you’ve mastered the game of mortal chess, when you’ve come to anticipate her every move, when blood is dripping from your sword and the mortal women you fight against look at you as if you’re not one of them anymore, your chess-mistress might make you an offer.

She might take your hand and lead you into a hall you’ve never seen before, and ask you to drink from a well that smells like death.

At this point, you have three choices.

 

VIII.

Refuse to drink and she will kill you.

Goodbye.

 

IX.

Drink too slow, and taste how rank the water is, how disgusting. If it’s not enough, she will kill you.

Goodbye.

 

X.

Bow down without fear and put your face under the water, drink and drink despite the urge to spit out what tastes like decay and pain. Fall back and ignore the waves of agony wrecking your body while your chess-mistress looks at you with cold eyes, waiting whether you’ll survive.

Get back on your feet, with your head swimming, your eyes full of tears, unknowing what just happened.

She will smile at you and kiss your cheeks and cut into your arm with a knife to let a few drops of blood fall into the well you just drank out of.

Don’t think about the blood of thousands of women inside you.

 

XI.

You can now rest assured that your mother is taken care of, that the man who used to beat her black and blue lies bloodless and dead in a river somewhere. Your sister has become a bright and lively person and you don’t even really want to know how they did it.

Your eyes are black now, sign of a made fairy. Not born immortal, but created.

Time drips slower now, thick like honey, and you watch the world with impassionate eyes. Softness becomes a distant memory, humanity feels like a long-forgotten dream. You can smell fear in the air now, you can feel someone’s weaknesses. Your skin starts going cold.

Your anger is an ocean you cannot control, your wrath a force you cannot command. You walk the earth for the first time in years to spill the blood of a woman that has pretended to love you but only ever abused you and used you. You rip out her throat only after you made her beg for mercy.

When you come back, your chess-mistress smiles at you.

 

 

XII.

 _Welcome to the Unseelie court, you’re one of us now_ , they’ll say.

Congratulations, you’ve made it. You have saved your family. You have traded away your human life and earned an immortal one.

At this point, you could simply stay. Become a chess-mistress yourself, make human women fight for you and spill their blood at your bidding.

But if there’s any soul left inside you, if luck is on your side, you may be able to choose a different path.

 

XIII.

Fortune is a fickle thing and here you are _. Welcome, chess-mistress._

These are your game pieces. They have names and personalities and a history, but you don’t care. You shape them into weapons sharp enough to bleed your enemies dry.

You pay them with favours, promises and all they might hunger for. There’s a beautiful young knightess, dressed in thorns like you once were, with eyes as blue as the mortal sky, and she’s ferocious and merciless and terrifying.

Fairies cannot love, they told you. You do not love her.

But she is your favourite game piece, and as much as you like seeing her covered in blood, her own or her enemies’, you always make sure she gets home safe.

 

XIV.

Her name is Ciel.

You hear it from whispered conversation among your chess pieces, but the name sticks with you. Ciel, your unforgiving warrior.

Fairies cannot love, but they want. And when you ask her, she’ll ask if it’s an order. You’ll shake your head. _Not this._

 _Then let me think about it_ , she’ll say.

And you’ll let her.

 

XV.

Your warrior princess will come to you at night, without armour or protection, and you’re almost surprised her skin feels soft and warm.

You saved her family long ago. She plays her role well, after all.

 _You were not born immortal_ , she says. It’s not a question.

_I was not._

_Will I become like you one day?_

_If you want._

_I don’t. Please, don’t._

There’s a feeling in your chest you’ve forgotten the name of.

 

XVI

You take her to the hall one day, the one that contains the well, and you ask her again if she’s sure she doesn’t want immortality.

She looks at you and shakes her head, cups your cheek and brushes a kiss over your lips.

 _I heard them talking about you, s_ he confesses, _back when you were still human._

_What did they say?_

_That you lost yourself the day they brought you here._

_So you refuse to drink?_

She is quiet for a moment, because you both know there really only is one option. She can say yes, or you’ll have to say goodbye.

 

XVII

She sits down, looks at her own reflection in the water, at the armour of thorns she is wearing, at her blue eyes. Then she turns to look at you, the black velvet you’re wearing, your equally black eyes.

 _I’d rather die,_ she says, and as if in trance, you unsheathe your dagger.

_Goodbye._

 

XVIII

The 8:27 train from Boston to New York is on time, and on platform nine a young woman in a beige trench coat and blue eyes gets out, returns to her family after having been missing for two years.

Her mother, who’d been dying from cancer was miraculously healed a year ago, but only now that she has her daughter back the light in her eyes starts shining again.

The body you give them to burn is not Ciel, although it looks like her.

You remember her lips on yours and her voice in your ear, promising she won’t forget, that she will come back for you. You remember your plea for her to leave you and stay safe, because you know that without her, there will be nothing human left inside you.

 

XIX

The reality is that you were never meant to be saved.

Fairies cannot love, you were told. But you could save her, and you did.

There is no way for you to get your humanity back, you were told. But you don’t believe them anymore.

 

XX

This is the truth you will use to heal yourself: _Her love is unique and more powerful than they could ever have imagined._


End file.
